An Old Man and his Death

“Oi, I want a word with you.”

“What? Who are you? How did you get down here?”

“You know exactly who I am.”

“I’m sorry I really don’t, I’ve never been very good at remembering faces.”

“Dave Gibbs.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry I still can’t place you, am I supposed to know you?”

 “You’re the moron who was supposed to make sure I died at the right time.”

“Oh! And I take it you’re unsatisfied with my work?”

“Unsatisfied isn’t the word. I’m two hundred years old! I’ve been in a wheelchair for a hundred and ten years.”

“Oh right, well that might be, um I mean, I suppose …”

“Spit it out man I’m not getting any younger.”

“Well, I might have made a mistake.”

“What do you mean you made a mistake?”

“With your clock.”

“What clock?”

“Everyone has a clock, when it stops ticking you die.”

“Hundreds of my clocks have stopped ticking since I was born, which one in particular was meant to stop ticking a hundred years ago so I could get out of this body?”

“No no, this clock is in my office, it ticks down all your life. You can hear it if you concentrate hard enough.”

“I can’t hear a damn thing without my hearing aid.”

“Everyone can hear their clock, just most people don’t realise it until it stops. Then it’s too late.”

“And you messed mine up?”

“Well your clock would have been one of my first clocks. I had no idea what I was doing. I’m supposed to set them like a timer, so if you’re supposed to live for eighty six years and 37 days I set the clock to tick for that long.”

“So what the hell happened?”

“Well like I said I didn’t really know what I was doing and I got some of them a bit wrong.”

“How wrong?”

“Well, some of my earliest clocks, if they were meant to last for eighty six years got set for … well …”

“Stop stuttering man!”

“Eighty six thousand years.”

“So I’m going to live for eighty six thousand years?”

“Possibly longer.”

“What do you mean possibly longer?”

“Well without checking I don’t know how long you were supposed to live in the first place. If it was ninety seven years you might have ninety seven thousand years … for example …”

“So fix it.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, you’re Death you can fix anything.”

“I don’t know how.”

“How can you not know how?”

“Well the old Death ... erm … died, so he couldn’t teach me.”

“How does Death die?”

“Well there was a bit of an accident with a megalodon.”

“Let me get this straight, Death himself was killed by a massive sea monster.”

“Well one of the Deaths.”

“There’s more than one?”

“There’s about a hundred of us. We’re all responsible for different death ages.”

“Couldn’t one of the others have taught you how to do it right?”

“They all hate me.”

“Oh boo hoo, ask them anyway. Or I don’t know – read a book?”

“There’s instructions for how to make the clocks, but they aren’t very clear, and there’s definitely nothing on how to change them.”

“Haven’t you tried?”

“I might make it worse.”

“How can you make it worse than eighty six thousand years stuck in a decaying body that was built to last eighty six years?”

“Eighty six Million years.”

“Well I did ask I suppose. Still, eighty six thousand years, eighty six million years – at this point I don’t really care. Just try”

“I don’t know how. My powers aren’t even very strong. I wasn’t a good choice for the job really.”

“So why did they give it to you then?”

“There wasn’t anyone else available to take it, apparently.”

“What do you mean apparently?”

“Well I think they just grabbed the first person that walked past the office door.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they have to replace a Death the moment there’s an opening or there gets to be such a back log that they never get caught up.”

“And you were just walking past the door?”

“Yep, and running ten minutes late for work that morning. If I’d just been on time I’d still be working in the plant evolution department. That’s where my powers are strongest you see.”

“So you couldn’t do it even if you did try?”

“No, I’m hopeless, I still make the clocks too long, I’ve got my error margin down to ten years now though.”

“So that’s why the earth is so overcrowded!”

“Well, not entirely. I’m only responsible for men who are supposed to live to over eighty five.”

“So someone else is messing up too?”

“Not as badly as me. I’m completely hopeless, everyone says so.”

“Now now, don’t cry; it’s not your fault they didn’t train you properly.”

“If I’d worked harder on my powers when I was younger it would have helped.”

“And none of the others will help you?”

“I told you. They all hate me. I wish I was dead.”

 “Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself; we’re supposed to be feeling sorry for me.”

“Sorry.”

“So what are we going to do about my clock?”

“I don’t know. Look. I have to make another clock now, can we go into my office and try and figure this out while I make it?”

“Fine.”

“It’s just in here.”

“Hold the door man; I can’t get my wheelchair through if you let go.”

“Sorry.”

“Which clock is mine?”

“That one up there. I’ve just got to do this, please can you be quiet for a minute, I need to concentrate.”

“What if I smash the clock?”

“It remakes itself and adds on another ten years.”

“What are you doing with that one?”

“Trying to get the timing right. The number of ticks per year is different for every heart so it’s tricky.”

“It’s really not, any idiot could do it. Just try moving that orange bit left, no not like that. Oh give it here. How have you not worked this out yet?”

“Erm, the instructions ...”

“You don’t need instructions. Look here you go - eighty seven years and 42 days exactly.”

“How on earth did you do that?”

“Weren’t you watching? They wouldn’t be hard to change either. Give me mine and I’ll have it fixed in two minutes flat.”

“Here, try this one first. It was meant to be ninety three years and eighteen days, but I was five years out.”

“Look you just move this bit here, and count the twitches for this bit, then you get it to here and press this. See? All fixed. Can you hear how the ticks have settled down? I don’t know how you can work at all with all the clocks ticking out of time all over the place. Why are you crying now?”

“Because I don’t get it! I’ve been doing this for two hundred years and I can’t even get close. You’ve got it down in less than two minutes.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Boss! Erm, I was just …”

“Why is there a human in your office? And why the hell is he over two hundred years old? I should fire whoever made his clock.”

“Who are you?”

“Shhhh don’t make him angry, that’s Death himself, the real one, the boss Death. He’ll just eviscerate you if you make him angry.”

“Which would achieve my aim quite nicely don’t you think?”

“Will somebody please explain to me what is going on?”

“Don’t be cross with him. I bribed an angel to get me down here. Well, blackmailed actually. But it doesn’t matter. I know how to fix my clock now so I can die.”

“You’ve been blackmailing angels and you want to pass into the afterlife?”

“Oh. Well I didn’t think about that. I was desperate you see, Sir.”

“Hang on did you say you know how to fix the clocks this buffoon messed up?”

“Yes it’s easy. I can hear which ones are wrong already. They’re hurting my ears.”

“How would you like a new job?”

“I want to DIE! Why would I want a new job?”

“Because if you die the angels will send you to hell for the blackmail. If however, you take a job as a Death you’ll get your young body back.”

“Was that a threat or a bribe?”

“Take your pick. It would be a shame to waste those Death powers you have though.”

“Death powers my backside, I just understand mechanics.”

“Look if he’s being offered my job what happens to me?”

“Oh do be quiet, you hate this job. I’ll get you something cushy in the weather department. Now what do you say, eternal hell or eternal youth?”

“Well it looks like I don’t have a choice. I’d like that restored body now please.”

“There you go. Enjoy it.”

“Oh I shall, I haven’t walked in over a hundred years. Where do Deaths go if they want to dance?”

“To a club like everyone else. Come on then you; let’s get down to the weather room.”

“Right behind you, Boss.”

“I reckon you owe this gentleman a thank you for offering to fix your mess ups.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly offer … oh fine! Thank you.”

“Good luck, try not to cause too many thunder storms.”

“He’d better bloody not! I’ll be back to check on you in a week young man, I trust you’ll have the faulty clocks sorted by then.”

“I’ll have them sorted by tomorrow, Boss.”

“If you can do that and sort out the new clocks needed as well, then you can have the rest of the week off.”

“Don’t worry, I was going to.”